Anniversary
by randomlvr1
Summary: To a nation who had lived a hundred lifetimes, sixty years is just a blink of an eye. But your world can be turned around - or ended, brutally - just as quickly.


_Title: _Anniversary  
_Summary: To a nation who had lived a hundred lifetimes, sixty years is just a blink of an eye. But your world can be turned around - or ended, brutally - just as quickly._  
_Characters/pairings: China-centric  
Rating/warnings: K+; touches upon some sensitve topics  
Word count: 751  
A/N: Just a little something for my _ge ge_, China. Today is the 60th anniversary of the formation of the People's Republic of China, and I just thought I'd give him a little present. I don't mean to offend anyone with this fic, but be warned it does include some sensitive matter dealing with communism and . . . well, China in general. Sixty years of communism isn't exactly something to be proud of here, but it does deserve acknowledgement at the very least~. _

**_And please go vote on my poll~_**

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He had been told that today, amongst the sheer number of marchers and the daunting tanks fully equipped with weapons of mass destruction, truly displayed the magnificence and entirety of his country like nothing else had. Today was the anniversary of sixty years of unity and stability. Today was the day that finally proved to the world, after nearly two centuries of humiliation, that they were not an ancient relic that could be tossed between the hands of curious curators. Today was a day of national pride and celebration.

And China would have traded it all in for a nicely brewed cup of jasmine tea.

Disinterestedly, China watched as yet another tank, flocked by a multitude of robotic army-beings, rolled in front of his specially reserved spot in Tiananmen Square. He watched as ever watchful guards patrolled his roped-off section of sidewalk, eyeing each man, woman, and child as if it were a potential schemer. The immortal nation had to wonder, where had the trust gone? Did his own government even trust their people? Probably not.

He watched another group, this one much more lively, dance on the street. Each one wore the traditional clothes of their ethnic group proudly as they glided down the street. China watched them with a fond smile, naming each group mentally as he saw their corresponding costume. For the first time that day, the nation felt truly at peace with himself.

But then a pain of sharp pain pierced his skull, and China was forced to remember that reality wasn't really peaceful people dancing amongst each other.

That must have been Tibet protesting again - the dislike was mutual, and so were the migraines each experience when their people clashed. Or maybe this time it was Hong Kong and Taiwan, painfully reminding him this also marked the twenty-year anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Protests with their own protests. Sometimes, China wanted to silence them, other times he wanted to join them, but, mostly, he just wanted to return to his little house in the bamboo forest and forget about it.

Massaging his temple, China turned away from the parade and focused on the Forbidden City. It suddenly occurred to him that he was the only person alive that still remembered what the palace looked like when it had actually served a purpose. Not that he'd actually remembered, or seen, most of it - for the two hundred years of the Qing Dynasty, China had stubbornly refused to truly accept the Manchus, keeping mostly to his private courtyard within the heart of the palace.

Now, he'd give anything to see the distorted features of a Manchu emperor again. Back when his country was ruled by the simple ruled of dynasties and mandate of Heaven. Before other nations had got involved and turned his world upside-down with their ideals of democracy and imperialism, and the addictive disease which was opium. Long ago when the fundamentals of family and honor always outweighed the greedy need for power and money.

But, then, maybe the last century hadn't been as horrible as he wanted to believe. So many died for reasons that seemed too arbitrary and ridiculous to be true (_Could he really overlook that?_), but his people were united (_Are they really?_) and they were at their rightful place in the center of the world (_When did power start meaning so much?_), or close enough to the spotlight to avoid any whining from center-staged America and his massive ego.

And they were always changing and improving (_Always just too keep up with a world that was advancing far too quickly_) - policies that had been rigid forty, thirty, even ten years ago, had now been slowly relaxed. Who knew what he would be commemorating forty years from now? A hundred years of communism? Ten years of a new democratic system? Could a monarchy be reestablished?

Or maybe he wouldn't be around at all.

But all of that was in the far, far future, and China had come to learn that he could usually procrastinate deep thinking to a much later and more suitable time. So, maybe, for the time being, he could sit back and overlook everything for the one day of the year where people waved around his flag proudly for the sake of his birthday.

* * *

**_And please go vote on my poll~_**


End file.
